


sweat

by onbeinganangel



Series: kinkuary 2021 [24]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Dirty Talk, HP Kinkuary 2021, Legilimency Sex (Harry Potter), M/M, Rimming, The Weasleys Are All There Too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:49:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29740395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onbeinganangel/pseuds/onbeinganangel
Summary: It’s kind of an accident at first. Blaise is preparing for his Unspeakable specialisation exams and he happens to share a flat with his boyfriend. It’s the logical thing to do.It’s not his fault that Ron is incredibly docile in the way he surrenders his thoughts to Blaise.
Relationships: Ron Weasley/Blaise Zabini
Series: kinkuary 2021 [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2137662
Comments: 13
Kudos: 78
Collections: HP Kinkuary 2021





	sweat

**Author's Note:**

> Feckin' wait 'til my therapist hears I posted this _unbeta'd_!!!! So brave!! So powerful!! Totally not going to cry when I inevitably catch a typo! Wow!!
> 
> Anyway, Blairon, amirite?
> 
> (I know I keep writing this trope but... why would you have the power to sext with your brain and not use it to fuck around in front of oblivious family members? I'm just saying.)
> 
> Just, fyi, I tagged for a few different things but literally nothing actually happens in this fic. Everything I tagged for still gets described though so, uh, better safe than sorry with tags imo.

Ron isn’t good at asking for things. Blaise learns this early on through a series of moments that only seem to get more and more awkward in their shared Eight Year dorm. 

The whole thing is weird, although he will admit McGonagall, the old bat, knew exactly what she was doing when she roomed certain people together. Even Draco and Potter, despite the daily screaming matches.

Through a painful post-War September First Feast, and after three and a half months of frustrating mixed signals from Ron Weasley, Blaise pushes him against the door between the bedroom and the bathroom they share and kisses him, regretting his Gryffindor-esque decision for only 5 seconds. After 5 seconds, Ron is throwing his arms around Blaise’s neck and kissing back with just as much enthusiasm. 

He’s surprised to find out that Ron wants Blaise just as much as Blaise wants him.

Blaise doesn’t think much of it, taking it as part of the _thawing of one Ron Weasley_ post the amicable but dreadfully public breakup with Granger. Blaise is down for however long this phase lasts.

Two years later he starts to think maybe it wasn’t just a phase. Ron, however, is still not good at asking for things.

It’s kind of an accident at first. Blaise is preparing for his Unspeakable specialisation exams and he happens to share a flat with his boyfriend. It’s the logical thing to do. 

It’s not his fault that Ron is incredibly docile in the way he surrenders his thoughts to Blaise, to the point where Blaise ends up having to study with Draco — he’s not going to get better at Legilimency by practicing on a brain without barriers. 

And while it doesn’t do him any favours on the career path department, it certainly opens a lot of doors. 

It starts innocently enough with Ron running Blaise through childhood memories — a messy busy house full of loud freckled ginger-haired children. Colourful. Bright. Joyful compared to the boring quiet memories of his own that Blaise lets Ron look at.

Sometimes Ron shows him the things they don’t talk about. The things that make his eyes go unfocused and his jaw tense. The things that Ron ends with “I’m sorry, it’s just… the War…” and the conversation stops there. Sometimes Blaise shows Ron that last year at Hogwarts through his own eyes — how he remembers Ron softening around the edges as the Scottish Spring finally turned into Summer (not much of a difference, except sunset is after bedtime). How he remembers a bunch of lost traumatised teenagers reluctantly coming together. How he remembers falling in love with Ron without realising he was doing so.

It doesn’t take more than a couple of weeks for Ron to purposefully lead Blaise through some of his racier thoughts. Blaise doesn’t stop to consider the thought twice when Ron does it and nudges his way in with a thought of his own.

_“You shouldn’t have done that,”_ he tells Ron, directly into his mind.

And then, as Ron smiles, a combination of shy and teasing, he sends the images over, clear as day — Ron bent over the kitchen counter, legs apart as far as they go, Blaise’s hands keeping his arse spread, his tongue working Ron open.

He savours the reaction that it elicits from Ron and pulls out, leaving Ron’s mind intact. Then, with a wicked smile he can’t stop from coming, he says, “You really shouldn’t have done that.”

He doesn’t do it again until a week or so later. A crisp, freezing Sunday.

“You’re evil,” Ron says, face flushed, hands shaking against Blaise’s chest. “Stop it.”

They’re by the downstairs loo, Blaise can’t remember the excuse Ron used to pull Blaise from the dinner table.

Blaise smiles and says “your mum will be serving pudding soon,” and then, without skipping a beat, he casts a nonverbal and wandless _Legilimens_ (Salazar, he’s getting good at that).

Ron doesn’t stop him but he’s definitely aware Blaise is making himself comfortable in his mind because his voice sounds in Blaise’s head, _“Don’t.”_

_“Don’t what? Don’t tell you I want to drag you upstairs, throw you on the bed and fuck you raw while your whole family is having Sunday dinner?”_

“Blaise,” Ron says, in an almost angry tone. But he doesn’t make an effort to push Blaise out of his mind.

Blaise teases him all the way through dessert.

_“I wanna suck you off in the loo.”_

_“You want it too, fuck, look at that, Look at you licking that spoon.”_

_“You like that they’re all here, don’t you? That I’m in your head, telling you how much I wish we were back home, with you bouncing on my cock, while you sit there.”_

Molly puts a second serving of sticky toffee pudding in Ron’s bowl without even asking.

_“With your mother doting on you while you’re thinking of how good my tongue feels in your arse. Ronald Weasley, you filthy bastard.”_

_“You want them all to know how much you love my cock, don’t you? You want them all to know you beg for it, you crawl on your knees for it, you worship it.”_

Admittedly, Blaise is probably having more fun that he should. The most incredible part of it all is that Ron just takes it.

He’s so happy to just let Blaise in, keep the mind-link open.

Ron is stupidly powerful, whether he likes to admit it or not. He could take Blaise on, if he wanted. He could push Blaise out of his mind in seconds, Blaise is sure.

But he doesn’t. Because he’s enjoying this every bit as much as Blaise.

_“Fuck, you are a dirty little slut, aren’t you? You want it, don’t you?”_

Ron lifts his eyes up to Blaise’s across the table for a mere second. Blaise looks around the table for a second, feeling more wicked than ever. His mother, for all her flaws, would have known what was up in seconds. But it’s easy to blend into the background at a table this full and this loud.

_“Show me how much.”_

Blaise should have known not to push a Gryffindor’s buttons. Really, he should. He should have known not to expect Ron to back down.

Blaise’s spoon clatters onto the bowl loudly, splattering a little bit of custard on the tablecloth. Luckily, he gets away with it. It really doesn’t matter either way, because Ron’s fantasy in his head is taking up every last of his brain cells.

Blaise closes his eyes, and reaches for his glass of wine.

In his head, Ron is kneeling on their bed, hands bound together behind his back. His cock is hard and leaking and Blaise wants to touch him, knowing fully well it isn’t really happening. His prick stands to attention and his hands itch. The Ron in his mind is begging. Ron never begs. In fact, he’s very quiet. He moans, grunts and pants, plenty. But he doesn’t usually speak during sex.

That’s when it clicks. 

Ron isn’t good at asking for things. 

But _this_ is him asking.

_“Is this what you want?”_

He looks at Ron across the table as he asks the questions, watches him bite his lip and nod, almost imperceptibly.

An exceedingly long half hour later, Blaise is kissing Molly Weasley’s cheek goodbye, accepting a tub full of shortbread that Ron won’t take. He shakes Arthur’s hand and waves everyone else goodbye. He’d made the mistake of trying to do it individually the first time Ron had brought him over and Ron had laughed for ages. But he still has to charm the parents. Nothing wrong with making sure he stays in their good books.

Blaise doesn’t wait to Apparate to do it again, playing the image of Ron bound and desperate back to his lover. 

_“Is this what you want?”_

They reach the edge of the lawn then, and Ron faces him, ready to Apparate, cheeks flushed.

_“Is this what you want?”_ he insists.

“Merlin, yes,” Ron says, out loud.

_“You want me to tie you up and tease you until you’re desperate and begging for me?”_

He plays the image again, but this time Blaise is approaching the bed, kneeling in front of Ron — mouthing lightly at his neck, raking his fingertips tenderly down Ron’s chest, never getting remotely close to Ron’s hard cock.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” He asks, then. Out loud, to match Ron’s earlier answer.

Ron’s answer comes with a wicked smile and a reminder that Blaise shouldn’t have to keep getting, but somehow, he does: do not underestimate a Gryffindor.

_“It’s more fun this way.”_

**Author's Note:**

> for a more hyperactive and extremely chatty version of me, come say hi [on tumblr](https://onbeinganangel.tumblr.com)


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